88 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 



waive of bis empty needle-case, drank Mr. Sponge's very good 

 health, adding, " I'm extremely happy to see you at Jawleyford 

 Court." 



It was then Jawleyford's turn to have a little froth ; and having 

 sucked it up with the air of a man drinking nectar, he sat down 

 his glass with a shake of the head, saying, 



" There's no such wine as that to be got now-a-days." 



" Capital wine ! — Excellent ! " exclaimed Sponge, who was a 

 better judge of ale than of champagne. " Pray, where might you 

 get it ? " 



" Impossible to say ! — Impossible to say ! " replied Jawleyford, 

 throwing up his hands with a shake, and shrugging his shoulders. 

 " I have such a stock of wine as is really quite ridiculous." 



" Quite ridiculous," thought Spigot, who, by the aid of a false 

 key, had been through the cellar. 



Except the " Shell & Tortoise " and " "Wintle," the estate 

 supplied the repast. The carp was out of the home-pond ; the 

 tench, or whatever it was, was out of the mill-pond ; the mutton 

 was from the farm ; the carrot-and-turnip-and-beet-bedaubed 

 stewed beef was from ditto ; while the garden supplied the 

 vegetables that luxuriated in the massive silver side-dishes. 

 Watson's gun furnished the old hare and partridges that opened 

 the ball of the second course ; and tarts, jellies, preserves, and 

 custards made their usual appearances. Some first-growth Chateaux 

 Margaux " Wintle," again at 66s., in very richly-cut decanters, 

 accompanied the old 36s. port ; and apples, pears, nuts, figs, 

 preserved fruits, occupied the splendid green-and-gold dessert set. 

 Everything, of course, was handed about — an ingenious way of 

 tormenting a person that -has "dined." The ladies sat long, 

 Mrs. Jawleyford taking three glasses of port (when she could 

 get it) ; and it was a quarter to eight when they rose from the 

 table. 



Jawleyford then moved an adjournment to the fire ; which 

 Sponge gladly seconded, for he had never been warm since he 

 came into the house, the heat from the fires seeming to go up the 

 chimneys. Spigot set them a little round table, placing the port 

 and claret upon it, and bringing them a plate of biscuits in lieu of 

 the dessert. He then reduced the illumination on the table, and 

 extinguished such of the lamps as had not gone out of them- 

 selves. Having cast an approving glance around, and seen that 

 they had what he considered right, he left them to their own 

 devices. 



" Do you drink port or claret, Mr. Sponge ? " asked Jawleyford, 

 preparing to push whichever he preferred over to him. 



" I'll take a little port, first, if you please," replied our friend — 

 as much as to say, " I'll finish off with claret." 



